One of Them
by KHwhitelion
Summary: All it took were four little words. Four little words....and his entire identity, the man he had been for so long in her eyes....shattered completely. "I'm one of them"


**This idea just sorta popped into my head the other day, after watching the most recent "Heroes" episode, "Building 26." I was wondering just what, exactly, took placed during that argument between Noah and Sandra….**

…**.and though I could think of a few things, I decided to add my own little twist.**

**The second reason I wrote this, was because of the preview for next episode. Noah's true intentions are finally revealed—why he's working for Nathan, and if he is a hero or villain. Now, him being my favorite character, I don't think I could handle him turning out to be the bad guy….so once again, my creative mind went to work, and I gave him a different reason. Because Noah Bennet is that awesome, and will always, in my mind, be a hero.**

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Noah froze, his heart rate escalating in his hears and interrupting his frantically racing mind with a sharp _th-thump._ At his side, his hands clenched and unclenched, tightening each time as he stared into the sorrowful eyes of his wife.

"I thought you could change, Noah," she cried, her voice tainted with venomous disdain, "I really thought that this time—"

"Look, Sandra," he shot back—though harder than he would have liked, "the government has made it _very_ clear to me that if I _don't_ work for them, Claire could end up on _that_ list!" He bit his lip, already aware of the rapid rate his patience was declining. _Keep it together, _he told himself, inhaling subtly but effectively to sooth the knot of anger in his chest, _she only knows what Claire told her….she couldn't even _imagine_ what's really at stake here._ Hands relaxing, he took a step forward, in an effort to smooth over yet another mess his daughter had made. Petrelli….the order to place people _like_ his daughter in captivity….even the plane crash that occurred only a few days ago. It was all far more complicated than either of them could ever….or _would_ ever….believe.

Which meant, unfortunately, that whatever Claire had told her mother was going to sound much more biased, harsh….and worst of all, repetitive….then any fraction of the truth he managed to squeeze in.

"Don't make this about Claire!" Sandra spat, interrupting his inner thoughts, "I've lived with you long enough now to know when you're lying!" She thrust her hand forcefully at the staircase their daughter had just previously climbed, her dark pupils burning with fury, but more than anything else, _betrayal_.

Yet, for one reason or another, it only aggravated him further. "Sandra…." He tried again, after a few moments of silence had passed, "you….Claire…." a quick pause, followed by a deep breath, "….neither of you have any idea what's actually going on here—I don't care _what_ she told you—you can't possibly believe what—"

"Then why don't you _tell_ us, Noah?! Why can't you for once share whatever's in that sick, twisted brain of yours with your family?!" Despite the fierceness with which she spoke, a stray tear broke free from Sandra's eye and trickled down her cheek.

Watching her reaction, witnessing her outburst, Noah sighed, a small pang of pain striking him. It was moments like this where he regretted the decision to cease erasing her memory. Over the last two years, she had grown unusually perceptive, and become well educated in his line of work—at least, when he'd been a Company man. And though she'd tried to cope with it, with the people he dealt with on a daily basis, Noah knew a part of her wished more than anything that she'd married into a normal family, had a normal husband with a normal job, instead of this….this…. 'callous bastard' who spent more effort keeping secrets from his spouse than he did spending time with her. And while his heart still ached to give her what she wanted—to let her go on believing her family _was_ normal—the toll it took on her brain, physically as well as mentally, made it far more risky than it was worth. Even if, had he gone on brainwashing her, they most likely wouldn't be in this current situation. Her verbally lashing out at him, demanding him to make some sense, for once….and him doing everything in his power to prevent that from happening.

Though, as it stood, that was becoming harder and harder to do.

"I…." he started, reaching up with a hand to push his sliding glasses back up his nose, "….I can't, Sandra. Not this time."

With the completion of that sentence, he noticed, with mild alarm, something inside his wife break—any hold she had over herself finally shattering. "'_This_ time?!' _'This time?!'_ Dammit, Noah!!!!" She screamed, hand hitting the kitchen table in a fist, "What the hell makes _this_ time any different from all those _other_ times you've lied in the past?! Why is _this_ so important to you, huh?!"

"Because there's more at stake this time!" He answered, so quickly it registered only after passing through his lips. For a second or two, Noah's heightened emotions tumbled into a state of uneasiness—realizing he'd revealed more to her than intended. But it didn't last long—after all, he realized thankfully—that sentence was so small, so….vague, that it could easily be overlooked….

"What?!"

….by anyone _other_ than a member of his family, that is.

"How could there be more at stake _now_ then when you were working for The Company?!"

Under his breath, Noah swore, mind once again working frantically to find a suitable answer for his fuming spouse. "The….The Company….They knew who I was—the length of my abi—skills. And_ I_ knew _them_." He said slowly, his voice unusually low. "I….I trusted them to—"

"You trusted _them_—"

"—_yes_! Because with them, I knew where I stood. There were no inferiority issues, even within the members. One of the….one of _us_, one of them. No exceptions. But with Petrelli, I'm in a whole different ballpark. The people he's hired….they're nothing but mindless fools—living under some….some stupid notion that the people they put into custody—people with abilities—are freaks…._monsters_….and anyone who disagrees with them has hell to pay for it." He shook his head, running a hand through his short hair. "You don't understand." He murmured, eyes temporarily closing, "I don't….I don't have a choice—"

"Don't lie to me!" Sandra shrieked, sweeping her arm across the table and knocking its contents to the ground, "The Company….Nathan….ever since I've known you you've been involved with these people! People like Claire….people like _Sylar_! Why can't you just, for once, get a regular jo—"

"Because I'm one of them!"

Silence.

Sandra's eyes bulged, and her jaw dropped, as she gaped at her husband, his words repeating over and over again in her mind. Noah cringed, his own eyes widening as a wave of horror struck him. He hadn't meant to reveal _that_. "Sandra….I….I…." The words died on his tongue; for the first time in his life, Noah Bennet had absolutely no idea how to come up with an answer.

A stunned silence fell between them—the air so thick with intensity that suffocation was not that unlikely. Even as his wife opened her mouth, she appeared to be struggling, her next question in the form of a strangled gasp. "You….you have….."

"An ability?" He coughed, trying to mask his sudden anxiety and the harsh pounding against his rib cage. "….yes."

It was one word—one simple word that Sandra heard on a daily basis. It shouldn't have caused such a massive impact. "H-how….when—"

"Since….since the beginning…." Noah replied reluctantly, hating the situation but knowing full well there was no going back "before Claire, before The Company….before _you_. Ever since that first eclipse—when I was just a boy." It felt like poison, what he was saying—each word—each sentence—dripping off his tongue as if it were the toxin on the fated apple given to Snow White in the fairy tale.

Indeed, it seemed to be having that effect.

"No…." Sandra breathed, so quiet Noah almost missed it, "no that's not possible!"

"Look—I know it's hard to believe but—"

"Th….The Company…."_one of us, one of them_?" What about _that_, Noah? Wouldn't they….didn't they ask….how did you manage to….?"

"I didn't."

Sandra's eyebrow raised. "_What_? What do you mean—"

Hands still on his head, Noah gradually dragged them down over his forehead, collecting the gathering beads of sweat and wiping them from his face. "I didn't do _anything_." He interjected, his heart hammering in his ears, "they knew I had an ability from the start. That's _why_ I was recruited. And that's why my….your….the lives of this _family_….were safer when I worked for _them_." Every ounce of his being was screaming in discomfort—he didn't want to be here, having this conversation with the one woman he'd put through much more than she deserved. But here they were….trapped in the most awkward verbal exchange of his life, discussing the one topic he'd worked so hard for so many years to cover up.

"What I can do….they….they needed someone like me….someone who could guarantee their assignments to be a success. Even if that meant….breaking the rules." He chuckled to himself, temporarily lost in the moment. "'course, that wouldn't be the first time they decided to do that." His head shook again, his lips curled into a sad smile—lost in memories that, up until this point, Sandra had no idea even existed.

"What can….what can you….do?" She asked hesitantly, a foreign but curious look in her eyes.

Though he remained expressionless, Noah envisioned his eyes rolling. "I knew that was coming." He speculated, hands falling into his pockets. Sandra gave him a look. "I _did_." He continued, turning his back on her. This, out of all his secrets, was the second most difficult to discuss—the first being that he even had an ability, but that was over and done with. Now, all that was left was to try to explain _what_, exactly, it was. But that—no matter how long he'd had it, or to whom he was talking to—wasn't going to be easy. It never had been.

"Sandra….do you….do you know why I survived as long as I did in The Company?" He received no verbal response, and as his back was turned to her, saw no physical one, either. As such, he pressed on. "It's because I….I can….see things—in my head—before they happen…."

"you mean like that painter—"

"….no. Not exactly. I mean I can _see_ something—in front of my eyes, like a moving film—_right_ before it happens—maximum being about five minutes or so." He risked a glance over his shoulder, and was unsurprised by the contorted expression of horror mixed with fascination decorating her face. Swiveling so that the rest of his body matched the direction of his gaze, that same, remorseful smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "How else could I have walked into so many dangerous situations and come out unscathed?"

He kept his tone light, trying to make this easier for her to handle.

Truth be told, he'd never felt as….anxious? no….he'd surpassed that stage long ago. It was more like panic, or the beginning of panic—he'd just exposed himself, after almost _too_ many years, he knew, for who…._what_ he really was.

Though his glasses had fogged in the center, due to his increased perspiration, his eyes were fixated intently on his wife. He knew this was a lot for her to handle….perhaps _more_ than he could ever hope for. Having to deal with his lies, his secrets….add this to the miss, and she'd either accept it….or….

"Does anyone else know about this? About your….ability?"

"Huh?" He hadn't expected an answer like that.

"_Well_?"

His teeth ground together; even though she hadn't directly flipped out on him, it was clear his wife was rapidly losing her tolerance with him….and his obscure confession….even if it _was_ a perfectly natural reaction. "Does anyone else _know_?" He reiterated, changing the tone of her words, into an opening question for his next explanation, "Yes. But they were only senior members of The Company's staff….and all but one of them are dead now."

His eyes shifted then, so that now he was staring off into space. "All of them—Kaito, Linderman....they _all_ knew….which made life easier for me. They allowed me to project the illusion that I was….that I was the 'one of us' in the equation because they wanted me to remain a Company man—my power was unique in that it was subtle, under the radar….but effective. And I was a man who could get the job done. However," and here he took another breath "with Petrelli….I didn't have a choice. I _had_ to work for him—if I didn't….it wouldn't be only Claire's future at stake but yours and Lyle's as well! If I refused their offer, an investigation would have been made….and though I did my best to cover my tracks….I couldn't risk the government—or Nathan—learning I was one of _them_. Because not only would Claire end up in captivity but the rest of us as well. Me, Lyle….even _you_."

Upon the conclusion of his speech, Noah once again refocused his attention on his wife, and the number of responses she could possible give after hearing something like that.

Neither said anything for a few minutes—Sandra trying to make sense of her husband's second 'identity,' and Noah fighting to regain self-composure after revealing such a large, hidden portion of his life.

Finally, it was Sandra who broke it.

"Prove it."

"_What_?"

She frowned, crossing her arms. "_Prove it_, Noah. Show me this isn't just another one of your lies."

Once again, he swore, memories of the past—of Angela, Kaito….escaping the mental lid he'd put on them and briefly clouding his mind. However, knowing what could come if he failed to act, he pushed any thoughts of his past aside, focusing now on a way to convince his wife that this time, he was telling the truth.

The answer, of course, was simple, but tricky in its own way. His ability was there, but unlike some—Claire, for example—it didn't respond right away. So to convince Sandra, his timing had to be perfect….

Suddenly, his thoughts blanked, his eyes lost their focus, and the man in the horn rimmed glasses was staring, with horror at the tear-stained face of his wife, her voice a shrill cry as she verbally assaulted the man opposite her….a man, he knew, to be himself.

"_Sandra….Sandra listen to me…."_

"_No! You listen to me! For once in your damned life, listen to me!!" _Her voice cracked then, but it was obviously from rage rather than sadness. _ " I don't care who you think you are!! I want you out of this house, do you hear me?! OUT!!!!!"_

As Sandra continued to scream, the scene around her grew fuzzy, until it dissipated entirely. New beads of sweat dotting his brow, Noah found himself staring now at a dry-eyed, tight lipped version of his wife, his….other self....no longer there.

He was back in the present.

And now, he had the proof he needed.

Shoulders straightening, he stepped towards his wife, took a staggered breath, and said slowly, "in a few minutes, something will happen—I'm not sure what, exactly—but…." He faltered, plagued by his vision and the rising fear in his chest "….but you're going to….to kick me out of here."

Sandra blinked, not quite believing what she was hearing. "Kick you out?" She echoed, "Out of _where_? This _room_?"

Noah shook his head, the color draining from his face. "No…." he corrected, remorse slipping into his voice, "out of the _house_."

Mimicking her husband's movements, she too stepped forward, an expression of revulsion carved into her face , "What?! _What_ did you say?!"

"I know it sounds cra—"

"Yes, it does!! This whole….I don't know….charade?! It's….you're….how can you expect me to believe this?!"

"Hey!" Noah snarled, "You asked for the damned truth, and I told you! Be thankful for _that_ much!"

"Oh, so now it's some special 'privilege' to hear you give it to me straight?! That's a load of _bull_." A sharp sob cut her off, and she took the opportunity to cast the man a furious glare, before continuing, "I mean, how do I even know if this _is_ the truth, huh?! How can I be sure that this isn't another one of your l-lies?!"

"I already _told_ you. I saw—"

"That's your argument?! You "saw" me yelling at you in the near future?! Some argument! For all I know, you could be pretending to—"

"Look, I didn't have to share this with you, got it?!" Noah interjected, thrusting a pointed finger at his forcefully at his wife, "I didn't have to tell you anything!! But I did, and by doing that, I've already put our family in potential harm's way!" His eyes closed, a hand lifting to massage his sweaty temples, "I never know when I'm under watch—depending on which bastards decide to go against Nathan's orders….if they're listening in on us now…."

"That's another thing!" Sandra cut in, "You keep saying our _family's_ in danger! That _we'll_ be put in captivity; How is that possible, when only you and Claire have abilities?!"

His hand dropped. "Lyle's my biological son—in their minds, if the father has an ability, chances are, the child will too. They'll take him in whether he displays unusual behavior or not—just to be safe. They don't care—in their eyes, we're nothing to them." His blue eyes opened. "And you….you'll be put under careful watch by the government—if you've lived with people like….like us, chances are, you'll know others."

At first, she said nothing, too stunned….too _appalled_….to properly answer him. However, unwilling to let the conversation die, she swallowed and replied hoarsely, "so I'll….I'll become…."

"Bait." He finished for her, his mouth suddenly dry.

_Bait._ The word was cold and inhumane. So….unfitting for someone like her. It pained him to reveal such a cruel future to her, to condemn her even before—and if—his….secret….became publicly known. But she had asked for proof, and upon receiving some—though it had yet to come into play—rejected it. What was he supposed to do?

"I….I can't believe you…." Sandra alleged slowly, the phrase filled with such….such….loathing, had he not seen it leave her lips, Noah wouldn't have been sure she'd even spoken them. "Such….such horrible things….captivity….surveillance….did you really think you could scare me like that?!" Her voice shot up an octave, "that you could actually convince me that this is why you've been keeping so many secrets from me?! From _us_?!"

"Sandra….Sandra listen to me…."

"No! You listen to me! For once in your damned life, listen to me!!" Her voice cracked then, but it was obviously from rage rather than sadness. " I don't care who you think you are!! I want you out of this house, do you hear me?! OUT!!!!!"

She gasped, hand clamping firmly over her mouth, dark eyes gaping in shock at the tortured man before her.

"I told you." He said simply, straining to keep the quiver from his tone. "I'll get my things." He turned on her then, whirling around so that all she saw of him was his grey-draped back, and walked briskly out of the room.

"N-Noah?"

He stopped, but continued to face forward. "Just do me one last favor, Sandra…." He uttered, ignoring her cry. "Don't tell Claire."

He didn't receive a response—nor did he expect one—but even so, knew that, in her own, small way, she'd grant him his wish. It was the bond they shared. That matrimonial bond only a wife and husband could experience. And though at times, it seemed shaky, on the verge of shattering, he knew that, given enough time, she'd thank him one day. Maybe even forgive him.

As long as his family was safe, he could live with that.

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**So sad. At least, I think so. Poor Noah. **

**Truth be told though, I actually prefer he NOT have an ability. It makes him unique. He's the only 'normal' protagonist in the series, and he's totally badass. **

**Well, we'll see what reasons Tim Kring decides to give him. But this is what I think should happen….even if he doesn't actually have an ability….I don't want my favorite character to become a villain!!!!!**


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